What Blossoms Can Do In The Dead Of Winter

It's snowing today accumulating into a blanket of white, reminding me of, despite the flirtatious winks and lures of spring, the reality that the season at hand is still the dead of winter.

I've got one home sick from school and two little ones with ear infections and these walls are closing in on me. I look around and I've gotten behind today, just enough to feel suffocated by the tally marks of uncompleted tasks and the lack of sunshine to warm my spirit. I rummage around the kitchen a bit, stacking dishes and confiscating old napkins, when I stumble across the tulips I threw in the cart this morning, when we trudged out into the forbidden to pick up the three-year-old's Amoxicillin and Clavulanate Potassium for his bulging, inflamed eardrum.

I tear open the plastic, cut the stems, arrange the red blossoms in water, and place the promising vessel on the kitchen table; and instantly, I inhale a breath of hope.

Sharing with Grace Cafe, Painting Prose, and Women Living Well

When Pride Dictates Who We Are {Guest Blogging Over At Chasing Silhouettes}

We have this deep longing, as human beings, to be known and yet, there seems to be the tendency, in our humanness, to clothe ourselves with one of two possible garments of pride because even with good intentions, it is easy to forget the vital point that we were created in the likeness of God, not created to be our own god. Where God says we are very good, pride says we’re not enough.

There are those of us who, in the name of service or obligation, may take on too much, more tasks than God may be calling us to. It looks noble from the outside, but it’s simply pride. It’s looking to others, comparing ourselves, and out-doing others or ourselves rather than seeking God’s will for our sense of achievement and purpose. We act because something tells us we’re not enough. Sometimes we burn out. Sometimes we crash. And just maybe we’re so busy on our agenda, we miss the very thing that is intended to make all the difference.

Then there are those of us who, in the name of humility, will not step up to the plate…

(I would be honored if you would click here to read the rest of this post over at Chasing Silhouettes)

How Parenting Is Changing Me

Would you consider heading over to Emily Wierenga's, Chasing Silhouettes, after reading this post, where I am guest blogging one of my recent posts on how the many faces of pride have the ability to dictate our lives.

*** 

Drew groggily wanders up the stairs, where I sip my early morning coffee on the couch in front of the fire place and work through my bible study. I open the blanket sprawled over my lap and welcome the cuddly three-year-old into my space. He settles in popping his thumb in his mouth, as I continue to browse.

There was a time when those little foot steps would stiffen my spine, for it was not time for anyone to be up yet; the morning hour that was my time before the household awoke. A time so vital to me because otherwise, giving of myself all day long, I may have felt I had given up a part of myself. Constantly pouring out, determined to fill back up.

No harm intended. I loved my children and life desperately. Yet, do we really know all that drives us until the hard and the deep drives it out? And what I have found about parenting over the years is that the highs and the lows of parenting drives the very best and the very worst out of us. We see the broader spectrum of what we're really made of.

I can recall the struggles to keep Alexa in bed at night, just around three years ago, when she was in her two's and three's. And although we have a special relationship, I wish I had spent more time with her then - snuggled with her and searched her heart more during those nights. The things I am more consciensious of now.

Her father and I simply looked at it as a habit to break, yet none of the strategies that worked for her older brother worked for her and it became a source of frustration to us. However, time would tell that she was nothing like her brother and that more discipline was not what was needed.  More quality time, patience, love and affection would prove to be the antidote. One we can sometimes be too stubborn to notice.

But a child's heart, manifested by their behavior, is not a habit to be broken. It is to be discovered. And if we relentlessly try to break the habit, will we eventually break the heart?

This process of parentng is changing me. Dying a little more to myself all of the time, wiggling my heel out of the mud of my stubbornness and digging into the individual lives and hearts of these children.

It's a constant intentional choice to move forward, grow, and change - choosing to open the blanket, choosing to sit at a bedside. Otherwise I'm falling backward - falling into old patterns of self-preservation.

But can I intentionally dig in and press forward if I'm not willing to look at the hard of parenting, willing to be changed by it? If I insist on them fitting into our mold, simply obeying our rules?

Those random nights now with Alexa are the nights that she will share her heart as I sit a while at her bedside, when she'll talk about school and the things she won't talk about during the day, and it's the setting I foresee she'll have the hard and deep talks with me as she grows. Oh, please! May I be willing to change! To miss that would be to miss everything that really matters.

Fast asleep next to me now, I've grown accustomed to Drew's little body pressed into mine and his breathing that accompanies my prayer and my time is turning into who I can share it with and my life is turning into who I can give it to. And I'm realizing more and more that this is what it really means to live life to the full.

***

I'll be focusing on intentional living over the next weeks. I hope you'll join the conversation so that, together, we can persevere in our challenges and encourage one another!

Sharing with Finding Heaven, A Pause on the Path, Seedlings in Stone, and The Wellspring

You may click here to head over to Chasing Silhouettes. 

Dear Well-Meaning Friend...

If I were in a critical, life-threatening situation and you told me you were sending me positive thoughts or healing vibes, I would have to say this...

Dear well-meaning friend:

Thank you from the bottom of my heart for your thoughtfulness and support. I know you are well-meaning and how much you care about me. However, I need more than just your thoughts right now. Your thoughts are simply not powerful enough,  nor are all of the collaborated thoughts out there put together. As fond as I am of you, my friend, you are not who I put my trust in with my life. More than your well-intended thoughts right now, more than your vibes, and more than your firecracker energy, I need a miracle.

I need the power that comes through prayer. I need intercessory prayer through Jesus Christ, who sits at the right hand of God the Father, the miracle worker, the giver and taker of life.

If it is the will of the God who created me to live, then I want to live!

And if it is the will of the God who created me to move on into eternal life, then I will die.

But, please, whether I live or die, pray for something much bigger than what your own individual or collaborated minds can conceive. Pray. And believe when you pray. For you must believe that the God, who has the ability to heal, is the same God who numbers the stars, commands the sea, and raises the dead.

The one true God who holds the bigger picture and has the power to make possible the impossible.

To die would not be the worst, my friend. Not because torture could be worse than death or drawn out suffering could be worse, but because to die is to live when we truly believe.

Please save your energy, my friend. Would you pray. Would you pray. Would you pray.

Sincerely,
Theresa

Lost In My Wanderings {A Dream}

I had a dream.


I dreamed I had set out on an errand
and became distracted by other things.
I wandered off then didn't know
if I should turn around or
if I was far enough around
a loop to keep going.
When I finally found my way back,
it was much later than expected
and still I had not done
what I had set out to do.
When I arrived home,
I didn't have the things
I needed to make
the rest of the day
flow as planned.
All of the family was gracious,
receiving me without judgement,
yet my man was headed out
and I missed out on time with him.
And he reminded me of something
I had completely forgotten
in my wanderings.
Although he was loving
and we all kept proceeding in our day,
some things were simply missed out on.
More was lost when I became lost. 


I wonder how much time in a day we exploit with mindless wanderings, be it the computer, TV, cell phone, spending, gossiping, ______(you fill in the blank)?

I wonder how many relations and purposeful moments we lose out on when distracted by these meaningless things?

Not all who wander are lost, no. Yet, this is a different kind of wandering.

These wanderings can be subtle, even seemingly important, when in the form of business. However, they are anything that causes us to lose focus of our purpose and break our attention from our priorities.

Nobody directly calls us on it and we can even be unaware as we proceed throughout our days. But important details, moments, and callings are missed in these particular wanderings.

This is too important for me to overlook so, I'll be focusing on intentional living over the next weeks. I hope you'll join the conversation so that, together, we can persevere in our challenges and encourage one another!

A Portrait of Intentionality

Sharing with Finding Heaven, A Pause on the Path, Seedlings in Stone, and The Wellspring

{Thank you sweet friend, Melanie, at Our Journey Home, for the shout out on your blog today!}

Five Minute Friday :: Delight

I'm linking up with Lisa Jo at The Gypsy Mama for Five Minute Friday with the writing prompt

Delight...

Go
He asks me if he can have a snack and make himself and sister some hot chocolate and he's seven and has never made himself hot chocolate before. But I am inaccessible at the moment and I believe he is big enough to handle the hot water faucet, so I say yes.

I like that I've given him that freedom.

Shortly after, I enter the scene to see how they are doing and both are delighted to have there bowls of gold fish, a fruit snack and their hot chocolate. With the gorgeous day, I suggest taking it outside, which turns into a full-fledged feast of a picnic.

Sister finds the blanket and lays it out on the far side of our yard where it "has a nice view," and he grabs crackers and cheese and turkey because, "what is crackers and cheese without turkey," oranges, capri suns and cookies, while I wake up the youngest two from their naps.

We sit in the cool air, all basking in something more than just the sun warming our backs.

"Robby, you're wonderful," comes from sister's mouth, she basking in his generosity, he basking in her satisfaction, and I basking in the sheer delight of my children.
Stop

What Freedom Really Looks like

I'm awesome, he tells me - this woman who is learning how to be a wife. A woman who often forgets to make him breakfast or to send him off to work with lunch, who rarely irons his shirts and sometimes lets him run out of clean socks before the week is through.

And he tells me how much he loves me and he doesn't seem to even notice all the ways I fall short, like he doesn't even see them. As though he trusts this process, this journey, this story...

being confident of this, that he who began a good work in you will carry it on to completion until the day of Christ Jesus. Philippians 1:6

And I see this work in him and I see it in me and I see it in us. And we are good, very good. Together, we are better.

God's perfect provision in spite of our imperfections.

And he is as inspired as I by a passion and growth and love for this life we live. And how we desperately love our children, who reflect the bigger story and desperately love Jesus and how we hold on to Jesus at the center of our lives so we can love each other best and we do this, in spite of ourselves.

He slaps my bum just for fun and he holds me close and he's teaching me what marriage looks like - this women who has had to learn how to trust.

His unconditional love, acceptance, and humility; his patience and unwavering faith, it anchors me in this turbulent life and allows me to set sail and soar - straight to his arms, for there is no other place I'd rather be.

In this holy sea of love anchored by the sacred marriage of two hearts and lives, I am free.

Sharing with Finding Heaven

When Pride Dictates Who We Are

We have this deep longing, as human beings, to be known and yet, there seems to be the tendency, in our humanness, to clothe ourselves with one of two possible garments of pride because even with good intentions, it is easy to forget the vital point that we were created in the likeness of God, not created to be our own god. Where God says we are very good, pride says we're not enough.

There are those of us who, in the name of service or obligation, may take on too much, more tasks than God may be calling us to. It looks noble from the outside, but it's simply pride. It's looking to others, comparing ourselves, and out-doing others or ourselves rather than seeking God's will for our sense of achievement and purpose. We act because something tells us we're not enough. Sometimes we burn out. Sometimes we crash. And just maybe we're so busy on our agenda, we miss the very thing that is intended to make all the difference.

Then there are those of us who, in the name of humility, will not step up to the plate..."Who me? I couldn't do that. There are many more qualified people for that task." Maybe it's revealed by procrastination or holding back, but it's definitely not humility. It's just another form of pride. We're still comparing ourselves. The focus is still on self. "I'm not going to put myself out there if I'm not certain I will do well i.e. I'll get some self-gratification out of it." We don't act because something tells us we're not enough. And just maybe, in our inhibition, we miss the very thing that is intended to make all the difference.

And yet we can wear both. We may want more at the same time we may be inhibited to pursue more. We may desire to make a name for ourselves at the same time we fear our inability to. It can be debilitating, this conundrum. Some seem to just not care. And yet, that may be the most obvious form of pride there is, when we will wear just about anything to cover up who we really are or what really care about.

But we weren't created to measure our worthiness by the next person. We weren't created to do only what we can do perfectly or well on our own.  And we weren't created to make a name for ourselves. We were created to need our Creator for what He calls us to and to worship our Creator with what he calls us to. We were created to make His name great through our gifting and service. We were created, frankly, without any garments at all and the only thing meant to cover us, by God's grace, is Jesus - God himself.

So for today, may we fill our longings by humbly crouching low with eyes focused  high, as we seek that perfect fulfillment in Christ.

May we hang up the garment of pride and humbly accept our limitations and within them, step up to the tasks we are called to. May we have the ability to discern the difference, and in that, may we never, ever miss a moment of God's perfect calling on our lives.

Instead, clothe yourselves with the Lord Jesus, the Messiah, and do not obey your flesh and its desires. Romans 13:14

Sharing with Grace Cafe and Painting Prose

Allow Me To Introduce Our Third Child

Tell me every parent has at least one mind-boggling moment when they must contemplate whether to chase or to freeze, and hope for the best. Tell me because I've had several and I've done both. But in this account, I chose to freeze and hope for the best.

It was Sunday morning at church when my three-year-old son darted across the stage behind our pastor, who was giving the children's sermon below the stage. All eyes were on my son. I was standing there at the base of the stage hearing little gasps from the pianist, who surely thought he was going to jump! Yet I, knowing that if I even flinched, he would let out a ferocious squeal and be much more likely to jump or run in the opposite direction. I did not have the option of counting down from across the stage and thankfully our pastor at this point, with zero attention on him, decided to wrap it up (in good humor) – and my boy willingly exited the stage to follow the herd out of the sanctuary.

Allow me to introduce our third child. He is full of life. He is our unconventional, wild boy whose love language is battle, fight, attack, and "ching-ching!" He's wild, a dare devil, plays hard, squishes bugs and small animals, will eat just about anything at least once, and tackles his older brother (who is so gracious to humor him).

Yet he's the sweetest boy you'll ever meet, too. He still drags his blankie around with his thumb in his mouth, likes his sister's princess cup best, sings Mother Goose Nursery Rhymes around the house, and currently has his toenails polished, in which he typically tucks bare in his favorite cowboy boots.

There really is never a dull moment with him and I'm learning to take it in stride.

As a parent, I suppose I could have been a little embarrassed about the church incident, but I really wasn't. I suppose I wondered what people thought, but didn't care too much. I suppose I could have kept a tighter rein on the boy–like not letting him get as far as the stage stairs–but you never know what he'll pull with his gigantic spirit.

I'd love to be the family whose children all sit quietly and poised throughout the service just so people would think we were...well perfect, or some silly illusion like that. But we're not. We have a fidgety, clingy, lively group and we're just as real as any regular family–figuring it out as they go–when in public!

But, when I think about my three-year-old's childishness, I see his love for life. When I think about his intense battle play, I see a godly warrior. When I think about his tenderness, I see a compassionate man. When I consider the characteristics of my perfectly woven and created son, I see Jesus. Not a tame man by any stretch of the imagination. We have a wild God! A wildly passionate, loving and crazy for us God and I love that reminder reflected in my son.

I hope to encourage you today to parent your child, not by the standards of what people may think or measured by your own level of tolerance, but with grace for the way God created each one of them, perfectly and uniquely His.

But the goal of our instruction is love from a pure heart and a good conscience and a sincere faith. 1 Timothy 15

Sharing with Finding Heaven and Graceful